


To All The Ones I’ve Loved Before

by lfthinkerwrites



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Canon Compliant, Family Fluff, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Romance, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lfthinkerwrites/pseuds/lfthinkerwrites
Summary: A snapshot at the different lives and loves of Edward Nigma.





	1. How I Met Your Father

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been rattling around in my head for a while. This will basically be a series of one-shots that go into a romantic relationship that Edward has, from the perspective of his partner. Each of the one-shots is self-contained and set in their own universe, or in one of the AUs I’ve come up with. This is entirely self-indulgent, but I hope you enjoy as well!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a story Diane will never tell Ellen. (PI Verse)

There is a story that Diane will never tell Ellen.

It begins on a hot June night in Gotham City in the year 1990, in a club in the West End. Diane is 20 years old and having the time of her life, dancing with her friend Cyndi to the thudding bass beat of the music. After the song ends and some old new wave song neither of them likes begins to play, the pair make their way to the bar. Neither is 21, but in this bar, it doesn't matter. Not even a fake ID is required if you're a regular, which Diane and Cyndi certainly are. The bartender leans over and flashes them a charming smile. "Hey ladies, what'll you have?"

"Long Island Ice Tea," Cyndi says. She hits the bar with the palm of her hand. "Come on, I'm starving!"

The bartender laughs. "One Long Island Ice Tea. And you, Strawberry Short Cake?"

The bartender's nickname for her, on account of her strawberry blonde hair, long and still permed. She smiles. "Just water," Diane says. 

"Long Island Ice Tea and water for the lovely ladies coming right up."

As soon as the bartender turns to make the drinks, Cyndi turns to question Diane. "Water? You sick or something?"

Diane shakes her head. "No. Honestly? You're not the only person I want to dance with tonight."

Cyndi laughs. "Oh yeah? Got your eye on anyone in particular?"

Diane hums a bit as she scans the men at the club. Most are here with partners, and the guys that look like they're single aren't the kind of guys Diane wants to dance with, drunk or sober. She briefly wonders if she should have accepted Alex's offer to go to a more upscale club Downtown before she dismisses that idea. Alex is a nice guy, but he and the places he prefers are kind of dull. Diane is young, and she wants a bit of excitement before she settles down into the humdrum routine that her mother did before her.

The bartender returns with a highball glass for Cyndi and a regular plain glass of water for Diane. "Cheers, ladies," he says before he's called away by some other thirsty clubgoers. Diane and Cyndi clink their glasses together in a kind of toast that they do when clubbing. 

"Here's to us," Cyndi says.

"To us," Diane repeats. "And to all the boys out tonight! Come get us!"

The pair laugh and each takes a sip out of their drinks. Cyndi looks like she wants to say something more when the bartender returns, holding a green drink. He places it down in front of Diane. "Appletini for you, Strawberry Short Cake."

Diane looks at the drink, then up at the bartender. "I didn't order this."

"No, but the gentleman at the end of the bar was very insistent I give it to you." The bartender points down to the end of the bar and Diane's and Cyndi's eyes follow. At the end of the row, sitting by himself is a man. A young man, about their age if Diane's right. It's hard to make out his exact features in the darkness of the club, but he's not ugly at least. He's leaning forward slightly, his right hand cupping his chin, looking almost expectantly in their direction. When Diane makes eye contact with him, he smiles. Cocky. Confident. Just the way she likes them. He gives her a slight wave but makes no move to approach her. She'll have to come to him.

Diane gets up from her stool and smooths down her bright blue miniskirt. Cyndi looks at her with a look of mischief. "Have fun, Di!" she says. Diane winks at her before she picks up her drink and sets off.

The man's eyes widen slightly as she approaches him, almost as if he didn't think she'd come. He recovers though the instant she walks up to the empty stool beside him. "This spot taken?" she asks.

He spreads his arm out, his smile growing wider. "It is now."

Diane takes the stool next to him, fully taking stock of him. He is young, with a strong chin and auburn hair that's got almost as much product in it as her own. He's dressed in a button-down shirt that she realizes is green, and black slacks. He looks almost more like he belongs in one of those higher class places that Alex goes to than this club. What strikes Diane though are his eyes. Even in the dim lights of the club, she can see how vivid green they are. Diane holds the green drink he bought in front of him. " An Appletini?"

He shrugs. "I like the color."

"I can tell."

"Do you not want it?"

Diane can hear the uncertainty behind the brassy tone. Something tells her he doesn't do this very often. It's kind of cute.

(How could she know that this man, this man just her age, has already committed ten armed robberies? How could she know that he's well on his way to becoming one of the most notorious outlaws that Gotham, that the world has ever seen?)

Diane brings the glass up to her lips, watching the man as he's watching her. Then she hears Modern English begin to play on the club's speakers and smiles. She loves this song. She places the drink down on the bar and gets up, holding her hand out to the man. "If a guy wants to buy me a drink, he's got to dance with me."

The man cocks his head a bit, looking at her outstretched hand, then at the mass of people gyrating on the dance floor in front of them. "I don't really dance in places like this."

"No? Then what are you doing here?"

The man huffs. "My associates insisted on me getting out for the night for my birthday."

That's a funny way of saying friends. "Happy birthday," she says. She leans over to grab his hand and she giggles at the slight flush she sees on his cheeks. "Come on! Dance with me, birthday boy!" He gets up to his feet and follows her onto the dance floor, and soon he's matching her, move for move, under the flashing lights of red, and blue, and green. 

(How could she know just what she's set in motion by this one act?)

 _I'll stop the world and melt with you_  
_You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time_

As the chorus plays, Diane reaches her hands around his neck. Even in her heels, she has to lean up to do so he's so much taller than she is. The man hesitates a bit, then with more bravado than actual confidence, puts his hands around her waist. "What's your name?" she hears him ask her.

"Diane Dixon," she says. "What's yours?"

"Edward Nashton."

Edward Nashton. Edward. It seems like too old fashioned a name for him. "How old are you today?" she asks him.

"20," he answers back.

_We should know better_

She presses her hips as close as she can against him and his eyes widen, then darken a bit. Oh yeah, he definitely doesn't do this often, if at all. In a sudden act of impulsiveness, she leans up to press a kiss against his lips. He freezes, before he leans in, returning it with a fervor that Dylan, or Alex, or any of the other dozen guys she's kissed never have. There's a spark, an instant jolt of electricity that tells Diane that this guy is something special.

_The future's open wide_

Maybe he's the one for her.

(How could she know that a year from now, he'll be on the news for his first encounter with the Batman, that she'll be alone and pregnant and regretting every moment she spent with him?)

She pulls away first, looking up into Eddie's face. Eddie, she'll never call him Edward, until the day she dies. "Happy Birthday, Eddie."

_The future's open wide_

 


	2. When in Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To anyone else, they looked like a pair of tourists on a romantic holiday. (RiddleCat)

“How long as it been since we’ve been in Rome?” Edward asked from the other side of the table. “Five years?”

”I think so,” Selina said. The pair were sitting on the outdoor seating area of a charming cafe across the street from the Trevi Fountain. The marble statues were just visible through the massive throng of tourists that were crowded around taking pictures and tossing coins over their shoulders. They were in Rome ostensibly on business, but Edward had insisted on getting up early to see some of the sights before the tourists overwhelmed them. Selina supposed she could indulge him just this once. The fact that he was footing the bill for their lunch helped make up for being dragged out of their hotel at six in the morning. She took a sip of her drink and smiled at her partner. "Having fun?"

Edward nodded, then took a bite out of his cannoli before he responded. "I have to say, it's certainly an improvement over the last time we were here."

Selina rolled her eyes. The less they talked about that fiasco, the better. "That was your fault, you know. You'd better not be planning on trying on my suit again."

Edward chuckled and took another piece of cannoli. "Oh, you're just bitter that it fit me better."

"Keep eating cannoli like that and it won't," Selina teased. She let out a laugh at the offended look on Edward's face which gave way to a pout. She leaned across the table to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm sorry baby, that was mean. Do you still want to go to the Pantheon before we head to the Palazzo Barberini?"

A smile came back to Edward's face. "Let me get the check and we'll be on our way."

What a pair we make, Selina thought as they left the cafe and strolled about the Trevi district. The only concession Selina would make to the cobblestone streets were a pair of simple if still stylish black flats. Otherwise, with her black dress, wide-brimmed hat and her dark shades, she looked the part of a heroine from Fellini. In contrast, Edward was, while still dressed well, in much more casual clothing than he typically wore, without so much of a hint of green. Selina didn't even know he owned a short-sleeved shirt. He stopped them every few minutes during their wanderings to point out a landmark, or to spout off some bit of historical trivia, or to take pictures. Every so often, Selina would pull them into a boutique, or insist on getting a picture of the two together, occasionally stealing a kiss. To anyone else, they looked like a pair of tourists on a romantic holiday.

Well, who would expect that the Riddler and Catwoman, two of the most notorious thieves in Gotham City's history, would choose to take a job in Rome of all places?

After they had walked from the Pantheon and back to the fountain, he checked his watch. "Well, it's 2:00. Should we head over?" Selina didn't miss the trace of disappointment in his voice

"Yep, it's about that time." She reached out to squeeze his hand. "We'll have more time after we finish the job."

"I know." Then he set his shoulders and outstretched his hand. "Shall we, my dear?" he said in that brassy, smarmy way of his that entertained and irritated her in equal parts. 

Selina smirked. "After you."

* * *

 

 

There were still tourists in the Palazzo Barberini when they arrived at a quarter past three. The art hung on the walls in a classic way, free from the barriers and alarms that kept most pieces in the Gotham art museum protected. Selina had admired many of the old masterpieces, but her attention was caught by the Holbein portrait of Henry VIII. She stood in front of it for a time, considering the artwork. It truly was a spectacular piece. She tapped a finger alongside her chin. And it was going to be a challenge to get out of here and to its buyer.

"I'll never understand the general population's fascination with the Tudors," Edward huffed. "No offense to Good Queen Bess, but her forefathers are somewhat lacking."

Selina shrugged. "Sex, religion, and violence. What's not to be fascinated by?"

"The Plantagenets are far more interesting. Or the Stewarts even. Henry VIII was a narcissistic, self-indulgent fool who if he were alive today would probably be the star of one of those tawdry reality shows you force me to watch."

Selina gently nudged him with her elbow. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy them just a little bit. Besides, even if you don't find Henry interesting, the jet-setting mogul who's paying us $2 million for him does."

Edward gave a quick nod. "Fair enough. You've had time to scope out the security?"

"Of course." The paintings weren't the only thing Selina had her eye on in the old palace. She'd been keeping an eye on the guards on their patrols out of the corner of her eyes, committing their routine to her memory, just as she had for the past three days since they'd arrived in Rome and had come to the Palazzo, at a different time each day to avoid suspicion. Edward had been doing reconnaissance work in his own way, both in the gallery and in their hotel room, hunched over his computer. "The guards change their shift every hour. There's always at least two at all times. How about on your end?"

Edward hummed. "It's all taken care of. The Paris Protocol is ready for tonight."

"Eddie, I told you I don't like that name."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Well for one, we first did it in London."

"Paris fits better! Think of the alliteration!"

Selina made a small, dismissive noise. "Eddie, baby, why do I bring you out in public?"

* * *

 

 

Despite her misgivings about the name, the 'Paris Protocol' went off without a hitch, and by 3 am, the pair and their ill-gotten gain were in the Roman penthouse of Massimo di Carlo, a trust fund bum (with an emphasis on bum, Edward was fond of pointing out) with a tan that would make the Gotham guidos jealous and far too much of Daddy's money to spend. He had the portrait in his hands and a gleeful smile on his face. "Bravissimo!" he cried. He handed the painting to a retainer and clapped his hands. "Now, $2 million, yes? Would you like a check or-"

"Direct deposit will do just fine," Edward said. He handed di Carlo a small slip of paper. "This is the account information."

"Of course." Di Carlo snapped his fingers and another attendant stepped forward. "Alexander, see that this is taken care of." He handed the man the slip of paper, then crossed over to a table with a bottle of wine and two glasses on it. He poured himself a glass, then he filled the other glass and held it out towards Selina. "Would you care for a drink?" Selina didn't miss the fact that while he was speaking to her, his eyes were on her chest. Or that Edward had noticed and that his green eyes were narrowed.

"No thank you," Selina declined, holding her hand up.

di Carlo shrugged, then sat down on his plush red velvet sofa. "I imagine that you must have many stories about your exploits. Perhaps I could persuade you to stay and tell me about them?" Once again, he was only talking to Selina. She had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Rich playboys were the same in Gotham and Rome alike.

" _We_ really should be going," Edward said. "We've had a long day after all."

di Carlo ignored him entirely and raised his glass in Selina's direction. "Perhaps another $500,000 could convince you to stay the night?"

A noise from indignation came out of Edward's mouth and he stepped forward, no doubt ready to bash the spoiled brat's head in. Selina held him back with one hand against his chest. "Down boy. I can handle this." Selina then stepped forward, sauntering up to di Carlo where he sat, ignoring the smug look on his face. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Massimo," she purred. Then she leaned down and gripped him on the shoulder tightly, relishing the hiss of pain and the look of fear on his face. "But I'm not for sale. And for the record? Mine and Edward's relationship is more than professional." di Carlo's face went pale when the full magnitude of the mistake he'd made dawned on him. "I think we'll each take an extra $500,000 each as an apology." di Carlo nodded. Selina let him go and tugged Edward toward the door. "Ciao Massimo."

* * *

 

 

Selina woke up at noon in their hotel suite, $1.5 million richer. She stepped out of the shower and noticed that Edward was sitting in front of the TV, a smug look on his face. "Did we make the news?" she asked, grabbing a cup of coffee that he's prepared.

Edward chuckled. "In a way." 

Selina arched an eyebrow, then turned her attention to the flatscreen. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw none other than Massimo di Carlo on the TV, being led away in handcuffs by the police. The newscaster spoke in Italian "Heir to the di Carlo fashion line arrested on charges of art theft this morning in Rome! The police received an anonymous tip that the Henry VIII painting that was stolen from the Palazzo Barberini was in di Carlo's penthouse. di Carlo has issued no comment."

Selina turned to Edward. "Eddie. Baby. You didn't."

Edward grinned. "I did."

Selina shook her head and laughed. "Aren't you a vindictive little thing."

Edward shrugged. "That's what he gets for propositioning my girl. The best part is, even if he suspects that it was me, he can't say so without admitting he hired us."

"So we get $1.5 million apiece and Henry VIII goes back home. A happy ending all around." Selina tilted his chin down to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Then she reached up to ruffle Edward's hair and laughed again at the protest he let out. "So what's on the agenda today? The Coliseum?"

Edward's eyes lit up and he lay out his travel plans for the day, including a walk by the Vatican. Selina nodded her approval, and the two set off for their romantic holiday.


	3. Happy Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn't quite the anniversary that Bruce would have liked. (A Riddle for a Bat)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little snapshot into Bruce and Edward's lives after A Riddle for a Bat.

Bruce had thought that with Thorne and the last vestiges of the mob families in Gotham gone, that things would get better. And for a time, they had.

In the weeks after Thorne had been taken into federal custody, Bruce and Gordon had managed to capture most of his foot soldiers and lieutenants, as well as confiscate his ill-gotten gains. Thorne was in federal prison now, having decided to plead guilty and salvage what he could of his life. His power was well and truly broken in Gotham. Then the weeks turned into months and the hard-earned peace gave way to a fresh wave of crime and violence. Not from the remaining few minor organized crime members. From the Rogues. With Thorne, Falcone, and Maroni gone, there was new territory for the Rogues to claim and fight over, and collateral damage for Bruce to contain. More than once, he'd thought about what Falcone had said in his hospital bed all those months ago. Maybe, on some level, the wizened old gangster had been right. Perhaps the old guard had been a check on the more chaotic violence that the costumed Rogues represented. 

Now, a year to the day since Thorne had been taken away, Bruce was tired as he drove the Batmobile back towards Wayne Manor after dropping Dick off just outside of Gotham University. They'd just been out in the industrial district, foiling the Joker mid-spree. They'd spent the previous two days, him and Dick, tracking down his movements, stopping his madness before he could hurt too many people. Well, him, Dick, and Edward.

Edward. The thought of the man brought a smile to Bruce's lips, as tired as he was. It had only been a year since he'd met the man at that party at Veronica's, but Bruce could barely imagine what his life had been like without him in it. How many times had his assistance been invaluable to his work? Too many to count. How many nights had he spent in his company, exchanging witty banter, arguing, seeking solace and escape in each other's arms? Not nearly enough. He sighed. They'd had a reservation tonight, ahead of their first anniversary. The disappointment in Edward's eyes when the Joker's crime spree made the news and necessitated the cancellation of their plans had been palpable, and it tore at Bruce to see it. Edward had seemed to shrug it off, however, and he'd descended into the Batcave to set himself up at the Batcomputer, to be his eyes and ears, just as he had so many other times before. Bruce shook his head. He'd make it up to him. He pressed the communication button on the dashboard. "Edward? Are you still awake?"

There was a brief period of silence before Edward responded. _"Of course. Sleep, as Dick likes to say, is overrated. Are you almost back?"_

"I just dropped Dick off. I should be back in about twenty minutes."

 _"Good-"_ Edward's voice was cut off by a yawn. 

"Edward," Bruce said not unkindly. "You don't have to wait up for me."

_"Riddle me this: how many times have you said that to me now? And how many times has that worked?"_

Bruce shook his head. "You're almost as bad as Alfred."

_"Almost? Clearly, I'm not trying hard enough."_

Bruce chuckled. "See you soon, Edward."

* * *

 

Bruce had collapsed into bed at 3:30 am, Edward nestled into his arms beside him. He was exhausted, but sleep proved to be elusive. He lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything that had happened in the past year. His eyelids were heavy and his body cried out for sleep, but his mind was still alert. At 4 am, he felt Edward's hand on his face.

"What's wrong?" his lover asked.

Bruce sighed. "I'm tired, Edward."

"Well, it is 4 am. And not to be a complete nag, but I do believe you've been up for two days straight chasing after a psychotic clown. That would be enough to make anyone tired, even the Dark Knight himself." His tone shifted, lower, more serious. "But it's more than just the Joker, isn't it?"

Bruce exhaled. "A year ago, back when I was still investigating Thorne..." Bruce's voice trailed off as he recalled the date with precision. "The night I met you, actually." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pleased smile come to Edward's face. "I spoke with Falcone in his hospital bed, the night O'Reilly tried to kill him. He said that I did more harm to the city than good by stopping men like him. That all I was doing was trading one group of crooks for another."

He heard Edward let out a snort. "Well, of course, he'd say that. Don't tell me you believe him."

"No," Bruce said. Then he let out another sigh. "I have to wonder though. All this chaos this past year with the Joker, with Scarecrow, with Harvey, and Ivy, and the rest. Sometimes I wonder if he didn't have a point."

Edward didn't speak for a moment. Then Bruce felt his body shift a bit, from being next to him to being half on top of him. Edward had pushed himself up to glare at Bruce. Even in the darkness of the room, he could see the other man's vivid green eyes boring into him, searing into his very soul. "You know," Edward said. "For a man as smart as you are, you can be very stupid."

Bruce, although no stranger to Edward's at times caustic personality, was still taken aback. "Edward-"

"No," his lover cut him off. "You put too much on your own shoulders. Did the mob's absence in Gotham create a void that the Rogues took advantage of? Yes. We always knew that was a possibility. But what was the alternative? Letting the likes of Thorne continue to have a stranglehold on the City? We couldn't have done that either. You are not the one who forced these damaged, disturbed people to put on costumes and commit acts of supervillainy, Bruce. And even if your presence 'inspired' them, so what? There's a lot more good that you've inspired too. Dick. Gordon. Yours truly, even. Where would we be without you?" Edward leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Bruce's lips, one that he drank in, like water to a man dying of first. Edward pulled away and the angry look on his face was replaced with a soft look of adoration. "So no more of that. Go to sleep and if you've got another argument in the morning, I'll demolish that too."

Bruce wrapped his arms around Edward and pulled him into his chest. "The real question is, where would I be without you?"

Edward hummed a bit. "Brooding away in your cave, I suppose. Now go to sleep."

Bruce nodded, placing a kiss on top of Edward's head. "I love you." Then he shut his eyes and in a matter of minutes, was out.

* * *

 

 

At noon, Bruce woke up alone, with Edward's spot cool. As if he'd been gone for a while. "Edward?" Bruce called out. When he received no response, he pulled himself out of bed, not bothering to put a robe on. He walked out of his bedroom, down the stairs into the expansive living room of Wayne Manor. "Alfred?" he called out. "Edward?"

"In the kitchen!" he heard Edward's voice call out. Bruce followed the sound of his voice, more than a bit curious. When he walked into the kitchen, he saw Edward, showered but still in his pajamas, pulling a tray out of the oven and putting it on the counter. He pulled off the red kitchen gloves and placed them to the side of the cooling tray, turned to Bruce and smiled. "Just in time!" he said. "The tea cookies should be ready in a few minutes."

Bruce smiled back. "You made tea cookies? I didn't know you baked."

"I don't," Edward shrugged, going to pour himself and Bruce a cup of tea. "But Alfred told me how much you love the cookies he makes, so I thought I might as well learn."

"And just what else has he been teaching you while I'm away?"

Edward shot him a smirk, the smirk that he had hated once upon a time. "If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you haven't got me. What am I?"

"A secret, huh?" Bruce said. He took a few steps towards Edward, not bothering to conceal the fact that he was eying him. He'd always appreciated just how well-fitted his clothing was. In a moment, he had him pressed up against the kitchen counter. "You know," he said, bringing his voice to a low pitch, the kind that made Edward's face flush, "I have ways of making you talk."

Edward traced a hand across Bruce's bare chest. "It's the funniest thing," he said lightly. "Alfred just happened to have a few errands to run today. He'll be gone until this evening."

"Will he now?" Bruce asked. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you two had that planned."

"Us? Conspiring against you? Never," Edward sassed. He leaned upwards to plant a kiss on Bruce's cheek. "Happy anniversary, Bruce."

Bruce brushed locks of auburn hair out of Edward's face. "Happy anniversary. I'm sorry about the reservation."

Edward shrugged. "I knew the moment I fell for you that I'd have to share you with Gotham, just like you have to share me with my clients. You'll just have to make up for it today. Preferably multiple times."

Bruce responded by crouching down, then lifting Edward into a bridal carry. "How about now?"

Edward laughed, throwing his arms around Bruce's neck. "What about your cookies and tea?"

Bruce kissed him soundly on the lips. "We can always reheat them. Right now, I have time to make up for." He carried Edward out of the kitchen and back towards his bedroom.

 


	4. Co-Habitation is a Dangerous Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last time Jonathan had lived with anyone had been in Arlen with Grandmother Keeny, and look at how well that had turned out. (Scriddler)

Jonathan took a long sip of his black coffee. Across the kitchen table, Edward impatiently tapped his fingers, "Well?" he asked.

Jonathan put the coffee cup down and cast his gaze to Edward. "Well, what?"

Edward made an impatient noise. "Well? Do you want to move in with me or not?"

Jonathan picked the coffee cup up and took another long sip, pondering the best way to respond to his lover's request. They'd been together for over a year now. He supposed that for most average couples, moving in together was the next logical step. The Scarecrow and the Riddler, however, were about as far away from an average couple as one could get. They were both stubborn, prideful men who liked things just so, in their own ways. Jonathan was a solitary man by nature. He still wasn't fully comfortable waking up in the same bed as Edward, let alone sharing the same living space as him. The last time Jonathan had lived with anyone had been in Arlen with Grandmother Keeny, and look at how well that had turned out. "Edward," he said finally, "I don't think that's a good idea."

A look of surprise came over Edward's face, a look that was quickly replaced by a look of anger. "And just why is that?" he demanded. "It's not like we haven't shared quarters before-"

"Being in the same cell at Arkham doesn't count and you damn well know it," Jonathan interrupted.

He watched Edward suck in a quick breath between his teeth. "I realize that Dearest," he hissed. " But when we're not in Arkham, we're usually together anyway-"

"You either drag me off to your hideouts or you come to mine and won't leave." Edward had in fact shown up on the doorstep of the rundown apartment building Jonathan had chosen for his latest hideout three days earlier. Jonathan had been a bit lax on kicking him out. Clearly, this had given Edward ideas.

"Would you stop interrupting!? And if you really didn't want me around, you are more than capable of kicking me out." A smug grin came to Edward's face. "Admit it," he said. "You miss me when I'm not around. You yearn for me."

"I absolutely do not, you vainglorious little fool," Jonathan huffed. "I just hate the sound of your whining."

Edward made a scandalized noise then folded his arms across his chest. "I don't understand why you're making this so complicated."

"I'm making things complicated?" Jonathan asked incredulously. "You're the one that's makin' things more complicated!"

"For God's sake, Jon! All I'm asking for is that we move in together! It's not like I want to get married or anything like that!" A flush came over Edward's face. "I mean, well, not yet-"

Jonathan pretended that he hadn't heard that. "Why do you even want to move in any way? Half the time you're over here you're complainin' about the place being a mess."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Why would I want to move in with you? Let me see if I can put it in a way that even you, the Master of Fear, can understand." He then began to speak slowly, as if Jonathan were a particularly dimwitted child. "If we move in together, that means we get to spend more time together. It means I can make sure you're eating properly, and not turning into even more of a ghoul than you already are."

Jonathan fought the urge to bash Edward over the head with his coffee mug. "And what exactly do I get out of this arrangement?"

Edward smirked again. "Why, you get to bask in my presence, of course!" He lowered his tone and leaned forward a bit. "And if I'm close at hand, it means you get to have sex with me more often than twice a month."

A lesser man might have been tempted by that. Jonathan considered this as he took another sip of coffee. "We can't go an hour without fighting about something," he said when he put the now empty mug back down. "You're not concerned that us being in closer proximity more often might make that even worse?"

"On the contrary," Edward said. "If we're living together, we'll have time to adjust to each other's little quirks and we won't fight as much!"

Jonathan very much doubted that. "Edward, I still don't think-" he was cut off by Edward reaching his hand out across the table and taking one of his own hands. Jonathan watched as his lover's face took on an almost pleading look and steeled himself. Edward was about to wheedle him. 

"Jon," Edward said softly, as Jonathan knew he would. "One week. Come and stay with me for one week. That's all I ask. If you're miserable at the end of it, we can go back to our current arrangement." Edward raised Jonathan's hand up and leaned over to kiss his fingers. "Please?" he asked. "For me?"

Jonathan scowled. Goddamn this man. Goddamn the minute Jonathan had ever laid eyes on him. "One week," he said with finality. "One week, and then I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense."

Edward's green eyes lit up in triumph. "Wonderful! I'll help you pack!"

"Wait, why do I have to go to your place?"

"Do you really expect me to stay in a place with no WIFI? Really, Jonathan, it's like you don't know me at all."

* * *

 

 

The first 24 hours had been uneventful. Jonathan had moved in with his meager amount of clothing and personal effects, and five cartons of books and research materials. He had to admit, there were upsides to living in Edward's clean, spacious if garishly decorated apartment. The living room alone was bigger than Jonathan's meager apartment. He and Edward had gotten dinner, talked about their plans for an upcoming heist at the Gotham Gun Show, they'd bickered over the plans for their heist at the Gotham Gun Show, and Jonathan had conceded that perhaps it was ill-advised to douse several hundred gun toting people with fear toxin. The argument over, the pair had retired for bed.

Jonathan awoke the next morning to an empty bed, and he let out a groan. Edward was never up before him. Not unless he was planning something. "Edward?" he called out. "What are you up to this time?"

"Come out to the living room and see!" Edward's voice called out. Jonathan reluctantly pulled himself out of Edward's admittingly soft, warm bed and walked down the hallway to Edward's living room. What he saw gave him a headache. "Edward," he said. "What have you done?"

Edward stood proudly in front of a bookcase that held all of Jonathan's books. "I've taken the liberty of reorganizing your collection!"

"What was wrong with how I had it before?"

"You didn't have any kind of system before! Now all of your books are organized according to the Dewey Decimal system!"

Which meant it would take that much longer for Jonathan to find a book. "Edward," he said. "Don't touch my stuff again."

* * *

 

 

Three days into Jonathan moving in with Edward, and Jonathan was working away at a desk Edward had set up for him in his study, scribbling down notes for his latest formula, when he was interrupted by the sound of shouting. _"Jonathan! Get out here!"_

Edward sounded angry. Jonathan ignored him, going back to his formula when Edward shouted again. _"Jonathan Crane! Don't make me come in there!"_

Jonathan cursed, then threw his pen down on his notepad. He pulled himself out of his chair and went out to see what was upsetting the Prince of Puzzles this time. He walked out to the living room to find his lover standing by the front door, glaring at him. "What's wrong now?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong," Edward said, pointing down to his white carpet. "Look!" Jonathan looked down to where he was pointing and saw a few strands of straw. Jonathan looked to Edward and shrugged.

"And?"

Edward's face colored. "Three times," he seethed. "I've had to vacuum my whole living room three times since you've moved in because you keep tracking straw into my home!"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "It's part of my damn costume, of course it's going to fall every once in a while."

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Jonathan! Would it kill you to at least attempt to be clean!?"

"I wipe my feet before I come in, what else do you want me to do? Take off my costume before I come in?"

"And walk around my apartment naked? I think not! Nudity is reserved for the bedroom and bathroom only!" Edward huffed. "Now, are you going to clean this up or not?"

Jonathan looked at the straw, then back at Edward. Then he walked past Edward out the front door, ignoring his lover's squawk of outrage and shutting the door behind him. He needed solitude before he wound up killing the other man.

* * *

 

 

The night of day five saw their biggest argument yet, the biggest argument they had in the history of their relationship perhaps. Jonathan no longer remembered what had started it. He thought it had something to do with a hat. What he knew now was that he had Edward backed up against the wall of his living room, their faces only inches away from each other, red with anger. 

"I regret the day I ever met you," Edward seethed. "You ghoulish, selfish, bitter old crow!"

"Likewise," Jonathan ground out, "You childish, self-centered, megalomaniac!"

"I hate you!"

"I hate you more!"

"Fuck you, Jonathan!"

"Fuck me? Fuck you!"

" _Fuck_ you!"

" **Fuck you!** "

Edward reached out and grabbed ahold of Jonathan's shirt and pulled him into a savage, bruising kiss. Jonathan returned it with equal parts fury and lust, biting his lower lip hard, satisfied at the pained groan his lover let out. Edward pulled away and the smirk on his face made Jonathan want to punch him, and then kiss him again. "My room," he breathed out. " _Now._ "

Jonathan let out a low chuckle. "Ain't you a demandin' little thing..." He gripped Edward's arm hard and practically dragged him back to his room, throwing him onto the bed as soon as they'd crossed the threshold. Jonathan clambered on top of the other man, pinning his hands above his head. "I'm going to make you scream tonight," he said.

Edward let out a defiant laugh of his own. "You can try," he said. "Professor Crane."

Goddamn but Jonathan loved this demanding, childish, impossible, wonderful man. He leaned in again.

* * *

 

One bright morning, Edward was, even by his standards, painfully smug. “You know what day this is today, Jonathan?”

”Tuesday?” Jonathan asked, taking a long sip out of his coffee.

Edward laughed. “It’s the eighth day you’ve been living with me.”

Jonathan had known that. As painful as it was to admit, he had gotten used to Edward’s constant, if at times aggravating presence in his life. Going back to his small, dank apartment to be by himself didn’t seem quite as appealing anymore. “And?” He said as he put his mug down.

Edward had a fond expression on his face. “I knew it. You’d miss me if you left.”

He would, but Jonathan had never been one to indulge Edward and he wasn’t about to start now. “I can’t stand your smug face.”

”Oh, I love you too, Spooky.”

”What did I tell you about calling me that?”


	5. Just Another Saturday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't the life Penelope thought she'd have five years ago. (Tales from Gotham Academy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, looking into Edward and Penelope's future a few years after Superintendent al Ghul's fateful visit to Gotham Academy.

The alarm clock on the bedside table rang at exactly 8 AM on a Saturday morning in mid-August. Dr. Penelope Young, a guidance counselor at Gotham Academy opened her eyes. She was lying on her side, her joints were sore and she felt puffy and swollen, but this physical discomfort was something she was used to by now. Just three and a half more months, and it would be over. She leaned her body over carefully to turn off the alarm, only to become aware that something, or rather, someone, was holding her back. Now that she was fully waking up, she felt a pair of arms wrapped around her, gently but firmly holding her in place next to a warm body. She felt and heard her captor stir and let out a low groan.

"Darling," a voice still thick with sleep whined. "It's Saturday. Why is our alarm going off so early?"

Penelope shuffled a bit, trying in vain to get to the alarm, but Edward's grip held firm. "If you let go," she said. "I can shut it off."

"If I let you go, you might get out of bed," Edward said, the all too familiar smarm beginning to creep in now that he was waking up. "That's unacceptable to me."

Penelope shook her head. One of the first things she'd learned about Edward when they'd begun their relationship was how clingy he was in bed. She couldn't deny that it was somewhat endearing when it wasn't obnoxious. Much like the man himself. The alarm was still ringing loudly. "Well then," she said. "It looks like we're at an impasse."

Edward seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then, keeping one arm around her, he reached for a pillow with his other arm and threw it in the direction of the alarm clock, knocking it off the nightstand and onto the floor, shutting it off. He settled back down next to her, nuzzling her neck. She could feel his lips form a smirk. "Darling," he teased. "One would have thought you'd have learned by now that no 'impasse' can thwart me."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "You better not have broken it. That was a wedding present from my Aunt."

"Was that the one who said I look like a leprechaun or the one who thought I talk like a used car salesman?"

"The one who said you talk like a used car salesman. My second cousin was the one who said you look like a leprechaun."

Edward huffed. "For an only child, you seem to have quite an abundance of family members."

"Take it up with my grandparents," Penelope said. She once again moved to get up, but Edward's grip around her tightened a bit. "Edward," she said. "You're going to have to let me get up eventually."

"Eventually," Edward said. "When I feel like it. Where are you going in such a rush anyway?" A hint of concern crept into his voice. "Are you alright? Do you need anything? Should I call Dr. Wingert-"

"I'm fine," Penelope reassured her husband. "I just wanted to get some writing done for my _Psychology Today_ article this morning." When Gotham Academy wasn't in session, or even when it was, Penelope would write and publish journal articles about her experiences with the students and faculty. She'd thought that once Jason had defied all expectations and actually graduated, she might not have as much material to work with, but Damian Wayne had started last fall, and he seemed determined to one-up his brother, much to the faculty's dismay. 

"Isn't that article not due until the end of September?" Edward asked. He pushed her hair to the side so he could place a kiss on the back of her neck. "Darling, as much as I love your drive, it's Saturday. What harm is there in just lying back and enjoying the morning?"

Edward could be as much, if not even more of a workaholic as Penelope was, but on the weekends, he loved to indulge in lazy behavior. She couldn't deny that it was appealing, spending a morning nestled in her husband's arms, forgetting for a moment all of their other concerns and just enjoying each other. Still though, "If I don't get as much done as I can now, I might not be able to later. Once school starts back up, that's going to cut into my writing time. Not to mention, David might be a bit more demanding of my time the closer we get to October."

Edward hummed a bit, considering her point. "Two hours," he said. "That's all I ask. Two hours with me, then you can retreat back to your study and write to your heart's content. Deal?"

Penelope smiled. It used to be much harder to get Edward to compromise, but time had made him much more agreeable. "Done."

Edward chuckled, then began to kiss her neck again, trailing his lips up to her ear. Penelope shifted over to lie on her back, and he moved a bit to accommodate her, propping up enough pillows that she could sit up a bit. He fully came into her line of vision then, his auburn hair still tousled from sleep and his green eyes gleeful and soft as they looked into hers. As difficult and childish as he could be, it was plain to see that he was as much in love with her as he was the day they'd confessed their feelings for each other in her office. She loved him, even more, every day. She hadn't thought that it was possible for her to love anyone as much as she loved Edward Nashton. He leaned into her and she leaned up into him, closing her eyes in expectation...and then she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. She opened her eyes and hissed out, clutching her side. "Damn!"

Edward's hands were on her shoulders in an instant. "What's wrong?" he asked. His ardor had been replaced with a look of concern, almost fear. 

Penelope placed a hand on his face to reassure him. "It's alright," she said. Another one of her hands went to her extended stomach, patting the spot where she felt movement. "Our son just kicked me in the bladder."

Relief washed over Edward's face, and he moved his hands down to her stomach. David was up bright and early this morning and making his presence known. "How rude," he scolded. He shook his finger in mock reproach at the bump. "Stop aggravating your mother, young man. That's my job." David responded with another kick, and Penelope stifled a laugh at the look of surprise on Edward's face. "Not even born and he's already defying me," he said, shaking his head. "That, he must get from his sister."

Penelope smiled. "He's going to be willful," she said. "I can already tell."

"Willful, stubborn, driven, and brilliant," Edward said in agreement. "Just like us." He rubbed the bump gently, and the sight of it lifted Penelope's heart. For as much as Edward was irritated by his students at times, he loved his own children even more. "He's already so active," he murmured. "And he's not due for another three months."

Penelope hummed in agreement. "Dr. Wingert said there was a chance he could be born on Halloween."

Edward grimaced. "God, I hope not. The last thing Jonathan needs is another excuse to go all out on Halloween." He leaned down to give her bump a quick kiss. "Settle down a bit, sport. Right now, your mother needs my undivided attention." He waggled his eyebrows a bit at Penelope, causing her to scoff.

"You are obnoxious."

Edward laughed. "I'm adorable!"

"Who told you that?"

"Why, one of the only people whose opinion I respect as much as my own." He smiled, then cupped Penelope's face with his hand. "My wife."

Penelope pretended she wasn't flushing just a bit. She crooked her finger, silently beckoning Edward towards her. He leaned in, and then...

Ellen's voice called out. _"Dad! Are you up?"_

Edward pulled away. "Of course, she picks today to be up before noon," he grumbled. He turned to face the door and shouted back, "I am now! What do you need?" Another thing Penelope had learned quickly. Nashtons seemed to communicate best by yelling.

_"Can I borrow your car? And some money?"_

Edward huffed. "Ellen, it's not even 8:30! Why do you need my car?"

_"I'm hungry! We're out of Pop-Tarts!"_

"And there's absolutely nothing else for you to eat?"

_"Just your gross fiber cereal and Penny's Icelandic yogurt!"_

Edward rolled his eyes. "I just bought a 16 pack of Pop-Tarts for her three days ago, how could she have gone through them so quickly?"

"She's a teenager. And we do need to go to the grocery store at some point today," Penelope pointed out.

_"Dad!"_

"Alright, alright," Edward said. "My keys are in the living room drawer! There should be about $20 in there too. Go to the store, come straight back and leave the change and receipt in the safe when you get back!" At the sound of Ellen's footsteps retreating away from their bedroom, Edward settled back down, giving Penelope a grin. "Now, where were we?" He leaned back in when Ellen's voice interrupted the moment again.

_"Dad! Your stupid safe wants me to answer a riddle!"_

"Oh for God's sake," Edward groaned, pushing himself back up. "So answer the riddle!"

_"I can't! You have it set to Esperanto!"_

Edward let out a curse, then flashed Penelope an apologetic look. "To be continued."

"I'll be here," she said. "Go make sure Ellen doesn't blow up the safe again."

"Oh, you'll never let us live that down," he said. 

_"Dad! It's starting to smoke!"_

Edward let out another curse and ran out the door. Penelope heard him yell at Ellen to stand back. When the smoke detector didn't go off, she relaxed against the pillows, listening as her husband and her stepdaughter got into another round of bickering before Ellen departed the house. As if he knew his father was no longer in the room, David kicked again. Penelope rubbed her bump with a little sigh. "You're going to be born into quite a family, David," she murmured. "Between your father, your sister, your Uncles Jonathan and Jervis and your Aunts Selina, Pam and Harley. There's never a dull moment." This wasn't the life Penelope thought she'd have five years ago.

It was even better.

_David Edward Nashton was born at 3 AM on October 31st, much to the delight of his parents, sister, and extended family. Especially his Uncle Jonathan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends our look into five different lives and partners Edward has had. A riddle for the readers: who seems to be his best match? Which life does he seem to be the happiest in? Thanks again for reading!


End file.
